


Reunion

by Tub



Series: Kyla: Red Light Series [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Original Work
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 05:56:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17740253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tub/pseuds/Tub
Summary: Staldar turns up on Yorsashi's doorstep. He is received far more warmly than he had expected.(Canon-divergent)





	Reunion

 

Staldar could scarcely believe he'd been let in the door, let alone allowed to hold Yorsashi in his arms, and be held in kind. He clings to his heat, his weight, the faint beating of his heart just below his own as a reminder that this is real, this isn't a dream or his imagination. He's never been so glad to feel tears soaking his collar. Yorsashi's small frame trembles with emotion, and Staldar tries his best to soothe him, despite fighting tears of his own.

 

Eventually, they move to sit, and Staldar tells him all about the Red Hand, Isa’s captivity, freeing her, and the imprisonment of her brother. And, truthfully, there's more he wishes to tell. He wants to tell Yorsashi all about the Underdark, the things he learned from Isa, coming to the surface and freeing a  _ god _ from its bonds, news of Hekkras’ cruel treatment. And he has questions for Yorsashi, a plethora of them. But Staldar doesn't want to burden Yorsashi any further, not when their revived relationship still felt new, tender, tenuous. They aren't quite walking on eggshells anymore, but there's still a swell of tension between them that gives him pause.

 

And then Yorsashi simply gives him a badge, a badge that could very well be the difference between success and failure, and he's stunned, overwhelmed by the generous show of trust. Before he gives it much thought, he's stuttering out his thanks, and he realizes he needs Yorsashi to know the true depth of his feelings. He locks eyes with him as he confesses.

 

“... I have always loved you.” He keeps his voice steady, though it's ready to break. He, unthinkingly, finds himself reaching for Yorsashi's hand, but Yorsashi continues to shock him. With no hesitation, no moment of uncertainty, Yorsashi takes Staldar’s hand, _pulls_ him close, and then his nose is brushing along the underside of his jaw, and Staldar can’t help the way he quietly gasps. A shudder climbs up his spine, as if electrified by the touch. For a brief second he battles the rush of _I don’t deserve this, he can’t possibly want this, this isn’t real_ , pushing it aside, letting himself melt into the touch, return the gesture.

 

Warm breath ghosting against his neck, the gentle nudge of Yorsashi’s muzzle in the hollow of his throat, chest to chest, Staldar fears his heart will give out. But the scent of Yorsashi is like a calming balm to his senses, a counterpoint: faintly floral, earthy, something beneath distinctly Yorsashi, all too familiar. Every inhale takes him back to his twenties, when he was naive to his own budding infatuation for the green dragonborn, the first time he was embraced, the first time they slept side by side. When everything was still new and didn’t hurt so much. His throat constricts painfully.

 

“I’m so sorry I ever made you doubt that,” he rasps quietly into Yorsashi’s shoulder, trying not to let his claws gouge the leather under his hand, gently squeezing the other holding Yorsashi's. Yorsashi just presses all the closer, taking his hand back in favor of wrapping his arms around Staldar's neck, pulling him down onto the settee. Staldar lets himself be guided, leaning carefully over the smaller dragonborn, one hand supporting his waist, the other finding purchase on the back cushion.

 

“Stay with me tonight,” Yorsashi whispers back. “It's been so long, I just…” His voice wavers. “I've missed you so much, I'm not ready to part ways again.” Staldar watches him for a moment, concerned.

 

“I have people expecting me, by morning at the latest. And I’m sure you’re expected somewhere as well.”

 

“Not until the evening. If you really feel you must go, then I guess you must. But if not for the night, then just a few hours, a few hours with you near so I can feel anything other than worried sick.” The plaintive note in his voice and pleading eyes crumble Staldar’s reserve. He brushes away the lingering tear tracts from Yorsashi’s face with a swipe of his thumb, cupping his face tenderly. He mourns the former brilliance of those cerulean orbs, dulled by pain and the passage of time, but their gaze still makes him lightheaded, so disarming they could be.

 

“Alright. I'll stay until morning. But I'll need to leave by sun up.” Staldar doesn't bring up the fact that moving between districts in daylight holds a certain amount of risk for him, not that he needs to. Yorsashi’s fretting makes it clear that he’s well aware of the dangers he faces. Even coming to the flat after dusk, he'd taken precautions, making every effort to move about as safely as possible. A bittersweet smile pulls at his mouth. “No need to convince me. The thought of leaving you at all is painful enough without you making sad eyes at me.”

 

Yorsashi gives a watery laughs, high and melodic.

 

“If more people understood your soft side, you'd never be able to say no-- they'd simply pluck at your heartstrings until you acquiesced.”

 

“ _ Tch _ . I know a little bird whose pouts could melt ice caps-- and he can barely frown-- but I have to tell him ‘no’ almost daily. His sulks kill me.” They slowly settle more comfortably on the sofa, cuddled close.

 

“Little bird?”

 

“A kenku child named Cheeps. I didn’t know what to make of him at first, but he’s grown on me, the little devil,” Staldar sighs. Yorsashi makes an amused sound.

 

“That’s sweet. And that means a lot, coming from you. You’ve always been a little wary of children, although I tell you you’re a natural born father figure. I’m sure he looks up to you.” Staldar goes quiet a moment, expression losing its humor.

 

“I’m not sure that’s a good thing,” Staldar intones, partially to Yorsashi, partially to himself.

 

“If you feed me some bullshit about not being a good role model or worthy, I swear--”

 

“No, no, it’s not… not quite like that. At least, that wasn’t what I meant.” Staldar’s expression turns guilty, and he sits up, away from Yorsashi, but the green dragonborn doesn’t let him out of his arms, following his movements. “I-- It’s nothing.”

 

“What’s wrong?” Yorsashi’s voice is soft, full of concern. Staldar grimaces, dragging a hand across his face. “Don’t shut me out, Staldar, not now.” Staldar exhales slowly.

 

“He’s so young, but he’s seen and done so much. I mean, he's  _ killed,  _ Yorsashi. He’s… I’m not sure, eleven, twelve years old? I didn’t even truly fight, let alone take life, until I’d reached my majority. But, even still, he’s so… so  _ naive _ \-- jaded about some things, perhaps, but he’s… He still likes to play and get into mischief and eat sweets all the things any child likes to do. Not like I was as a youth.”

 

“Well, that’s a good thing, right? Despite it all, he’s held onto that innocence.”

 

“Yes. It’s a wonderful thing. Which is why I offered him the opportunity to escape all the violence and subterfuge. I wanted to give him a chance to… to opt-out of the things we face in our travels, the dangers we come across. A chance at something resembling a normal childhood. He deserves that. But while explaining that to him, he became confused, and a little upset.”

 

“Mm. Children don’t always react well to change.”

 

“I see that now, but I’m worried if we continue on like we have been, he’s going to be put in a situation he shouldn’t to be in. I’m not as resilient as I once was. I can’t protect those around me like I used to, and my wounds don’t heal quite right, even with magic. I have new scars every time we fight, now. I’m going to fall, Yorsashi. I’ve accepted that. But I don’t want him there to see it. Not when he looks at me with those child eyes.” Staldar’s voice goes hoarse with emotion. “If he grows too close, too attached, and then I…” Yorsashi reaches out and guides Staldar’s face to his own, and Staldar lets himself be pulled along, a hand drifting up to cup around his smaller hand fondly.

 

“You never change, Staldar. At least, your fears don’t,” Yorsashi chuckles sadly. “You silly man. I wish you wouldn’t speak like that. You’re always so certain that you’re going to perish before your time, like it’s already decided.”

 

“I’m facing the reality of the situation, Yorsashi. You and me, we’ve faced dangers before, but nothing quite like what I’ve seen in the past months. Every time we face off with enemies, it’s a gamble, and the odds are no longer in my favor. Soon we’ll either be outnumbered or outpowered, and I won’t let the others be struck down.” Staldar reaches around Yorsashi to pull him close, leaning forward to murmur softly to him, the end of his nose pressed to his jaw. “That includes you.” Yorsashi makes a small, breathy sound of surprise, but relaxes at the touch. They stay like this for a moment, trading breaths, soaking in each others warmth, when Staldar feels Yorsashi pluck at the button on his collar. He pulls back to fix Yorsashi with a bemused look, placing a hand over Yorsashi’s. “What are you up to?”

 

“You said you have new scars. Show them to me?” Yorsashi idly traces a finger over the buttons of his vest and Staldar feels himself flush.

 

“They’re, ah, they’re not pretty.”

 

“I don’t care. They’re part of you.”  Yorsashi’s voice is gentle, full of affection. “You’ve been through a lot since I last saw you. Let me see.”

 

Staldar swallows thickly, indecision flickering over his face. Finally he gives Yorsashi a bashful little smile.

 

“It doesn’t seem fair, for me to undress while you’re in your leather kit…”

 

“Oh!” Yorsashi’s expression turns slightly embarrassed, and he fumbles to undo the various buckles on his armor. Staldar chuckles and reaches out to stop him.

 

“Let me help with that, since you seemed so eager to disrobe me yourself.”

 

“I suppose that’s only fair,” Yorsashi says with a small, coy smile.

 

Staldar gently begins unbuckling and pulling apart the armor, revealing the soft, close-fitting linen underneath, a flattering shade of navy that brought out the brilliant green of his scales and the cerulean of his eyes. He tries to calm the tremble of his fingers, the frantic beating of his heart, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the moment. Yorsashi remains quiet, compliant under his grasp, neither quite meeting the other’s eye, but moving to let him slip the articles off. All but the greaves discarded, Staldar pauses, hand hovering over Yorsashi’s knee, before he slowly slides off of the seat.

 

“What are you-- o-oh,” Yorsashi’s voice breaks as Staldar kneels in front of him (ignoring the way his knees ache against the hard wood), carefully brushing the back of his knee. He notices Yorsashi’s sharp intake of breath, and looks up, searching his face for reassurance.

 

“May I?”

 

Yorsashi quickly looks away, but nods, and Staldar thinks he can see a faint rosiness under his verdant coloration. He can’t help but feel pleased with this reaction, but hides his mirth, instead focusing on unlacing his trappings. A memory suddenly surfaces, as he picks at the cord.

 

“I remember doing this for you many years ago, after a particularly difficult day of drills. You could barely move, you were so stiff and sore,” he chuckles. Yorsashi looks back to him, and then laughs along.

 

“You teased me for not having your ungodly endurance, you ass. But I was rather touched. I didn’t even need to ask.”

 

“I thought it was endearing, how hard you worked to keep up that day.” He slips the first greave off and starts on the other. “You were cute.”

 

“Only cute?” Yorsashi smirks a little, leaning back into the cushions. Staldar hums thoughtfully as he pulls off the other greave off, but instead of rising from his place on the floor, he grasps Yorsashi’s ankle delicately, the other hand cupping his calf over the soft cloth of his leggings.

 

“No, not only cute,” Staldar breathes, and then presses a close approximation of a kiss to his knee. Yorsashi goes still, wide-eyed and undeniably blushing now. “Handsome.” Kiss. He inches down. “Gorgeous.” Kiss. “Beautiful.” Kiss.

 

“When did you grow so bold?” Yorsashi’s voice is but a hushed croak, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

 

“When I decided to stop denying my feelings for you.”

 

There’s a moment of intense silence between them, locking eyes, before Yorsashi pitches forward, wrapping his arms around Staldar’s shoulders, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Staldar leans up, pressing forward between Yorsashi’s legs, hands wandering up his back. He feels a tentative lick against the little strip of his exposed throat and a shudder crawls up his body, mouth parting, a flash of heat overwhelming him for a moment. It had been so long since he’d felt that heat, that rush of longing, desire that could blot out everything else. Except, now, he doesn’t bury or run from it. He lets the spark turn into an ember, lets it smoulder, neither fanning it or smothering it. It’s a little strange, to bask in that feeling. There’s a hint of nervous apprehension left in him, a thread of fear that still manages to tangle itself up inside of him, but he ignores it in favor of more pleasant things.

 

“Your turn,” Yorsashi whispers, hands drifting down to tug at the belt cinched across Staldar’s waist. It falls to the floor with a little clatter, and he’s quick to start undoing the buttons of his vest, but Staldar takes hold of his wrist, halting his progress.

 

“I mean it when I say that they’re not pretty. It’s not like when I only had the, ah, the one on my side.” He swallows, throat suddenly dry. “Some are still fairly new, s-so, ah--,” he stumbles over his words, but falls quiet when Yorsashi gently bumps his nose with his own.

 

“And I meant it when I said I don’t care. You don’t have to show me, if you truly don’t wish to, but no blemish will change how I see you, Staldar.” Staldar’s eyes fall closed, a shivery exhale escaping him. “They’re symbols of your survival, badges of honor and sacrifice. Why not wear them with pride?”

 

Staldar opens his eyes and finds Yorsashi smiling down at him, and his trepidation turns to adoration, uncertainty turning to resolve. He moves his hands away with a nod, letting Yorsashi continue down his chest, deftly working on the column of buttons. Staldar shrugs out of the vest, and Yorsashi doesn’t hesitate to start on his shirt, quickly untucking it from his trousers. Staldar becoming more and more disheveled, he works on his collar, but pauses when he sees a bit of chain peeking from under the garment. He pulls the delicate chain necklace out, revealing a simple ring hanging from it. He turns it over in his palm, eyeing it closely.

 

“Pretty. I’ve never known you to wear jewelry.”

 

Staldar gently takes the ring between two claws, angling it to look at the little gem it holds.

 

“It was given to me by Tosa. It’s like a stone of farspeech, but I’ve been afraid to use it while he is incarcerated. I highly doubt he was able to keep his.” He closes his hand around it, face falling slightly. “I know there’s little to no chance, but I always wear it, just in case he-- well, just in case.” Yorsashi places his own hand gently over Staldar’s, feeling the roughness of his knuckles. Staldar struggles to read the expression on his face.

 

“He’s more to you than just a leader, isn’t he? He’s important to you.” It’s less of a question and more of an observation. Staldar flounders for a moment, unsure how to explain his own befuddled emotions towards the drow.

 

“He found me when I felt I was at my lowest, when I had lost all purpose. He gave me a new one. He showed me compassion and kindness and… and trust, though I scarcely deserved it. It’s hard not to speak of him without a certain amount of reverence.”

 

“But it’s not just gratitude.”

 

“... No. It’s not only gratitude. In our months together, we weren’t just allies fighting for our cause, we became… rather close friends.”

 

“You must miss him terribly, then,” Yorsashi’s voice is soft, full of empathy.

 

Staldar can’t help the way his next exhale trembles, how he clenches his fist tighter around the little ring, shutting his eyes against the sudden, sharp pang of loss he feels. He inhales sharply, holds it, then exhales slowly.

 

“His absence causes me no small amount of grief.” He opens his eyes again, voice ardent. “But that will change very soon.”

 

Yorsashi watches him, expression still unreadable, but then he smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

“Your determination is… somehow inspiring and disconcerting all at once.” He tilts forward and wrapping the white dragonborn in an embrace. Staldar drops the ring, returning the hug with a chuckle. Yorsashi’s fingers grasp at the fabric of his shirt, and  he hums softly, appreciating the quality. “You cut quite the figure in this, by the by. Very fetching. It’s different from what I’m used to seeing you in.”

 

“I’m glad you approve,” Staldar murmurs. “I was nervous and wanted to leave a good impression.”

 

“You wore this just for me?” Yorsashi teases, one hand slipping under the slate grey cotton, sliding over his shoulder, settling behind Staldar’s neck. This draws a rumble from Staldar, his own hands gravitating towards Yorsashi’s hips. “Polished your scales, put on a little fragrance, dressed up, all for me?”

 

“Only for you,” Staldar gasps, letting his hands dip under Yorsashi’s top, pressing into the small of his back, pulling him forward. “Wanted to look good for you.”

 

“I’m sorry I didn’t put forth quite the same effort,” Yorsashi says with amusement.

 

“To be fair, you were convinced I had killed our Praetor in cold blood,” Staldar replies easily. “Besides, I think you’re beautiful in everything.” He reluctantly removes his hands as Yorsashi parts his shirt, cooperating as it slips down, revealing mottled skin and scales. He bites back the little edge of fear that wants to surface, fear that Yorsashi will change his mind, dislike what he sees, fear that his wounds would disturb him.

 

None of those things cross Yorsashi’s face as he takes in all the missing, chipped scales, thin, white criss-crossing scars of old, and new, bright, welt-like scars dotting his body. Mostly, he looks inquisitive, as if trying to puzzle out the source of some of the marring.

 

“Some of these are still all pink… Do they hurt?”

 

“No. At least, most of them don’t, and if they do, not very much.”

 

“I’ve never seen puncture wounds like these. They’re punctures, right?”

 

“From hooks. They managed to find their way between the plates of my armor. Nightmarish creatures, fiendish, covered in rusty chains. If one managed to snare you, you had no choice but to pull the hook out.”

 

“Gods above…” He turns his attention to other wounds, before he squints and pulls back a bit. “Am I imagining things or are the scales on one side duller than the ones on the other?”

 

“Hah. Some maniac put a Beholder eye inside of an automaton. The damned thing blasted me with this magical beam and turned the very clothes on my body to ash. I was actually quite disappointed, I had humored the thought of keeping that outfit as well. It was a nice suit.” He sighs and brushes a claw over the affected scales. “I tried to brighten them again after, polished and oiled them, but they’re just not quite the same, like the beam stripped them of their natural outer coat and gloss.”

 

“You fought something like that while wearing nothing but a suit?”

 

“To make a longer story short, we had to attend a ball if we wanted to leave the Underdark, and petty noble jealousy turned deadly. We were the ones to take care of it.”

 

“... I would very much like to hear the longer version.”

 

“It was a very strange night.”

 

Yorsashi laughs at that, and Staldar finds himself laughing as well, both falling into a fit of giggles at the absurdity of it all. When they finally regain their composure, Yorsashi reaches out to stroke a hand across Staldar’s jawline, and Staldar leans into his touch.

 

“You know, I’m not sure what had you so afraid. If anything, all these new marks make you look rather tough. You’ve always been on the rugged side of handsome.” He traces an aimless pattern with a finger down his chest. “You’re still a bit thin, thinner than I’d like. Please tell me you’re eating.”

 

“Gods, you’re all so…  _ Yes _ , I promise, I’m by no means starving. I’m victim to a fickle appetite and a fast metabolism, but truly, the others make sure I eat regardless,” Staldar gripes, a puff of steam rising as he huffs. “It’s a bit difficult to keep the weight on while trekking across the land and getting into mad scuffles with all manner of deadly things.”

 

“At least someone has been looking after you,” Yorsashi sighs. “I’m glad. I’m glad you have people who care about you.” Something soft and earnest touches Yorsashi’s voice, eyes a little sad. Staldar leans up into him, wanting to chase that sadness away. “I only wish  _ you  _ cared about you.”

 

“I’m lucky to have them in my life.” Staldar pulls Yorsashi ever closer, their bodies now flush against one another, still kneeling between Yorsashi’s thighs. “They make me want to do better. I’m… I’m trying to be better. To myself and others.” Hands exploring a little more firmly, rucking up Yorsashi’s shirt, Staldar lets tongue flick briefly against the hollow of his throat, and Yorsashi makes a choked sound, head falling back. Emboldened, that smoulder burning a little brighter, Staldar lavishes more attention on that spot, quickly fascinated by the combination of scent and taste. Yorashi squirms, breaths becoming quicker, shallower with burgeoning arousal.

 

“A-ahh, well, now that I have you half-naked in my sitting room, how far do you want to take this, Staldar,” Yorsashi pants, eyes dark with want. Staldar pauses, suddenly uncertain.

 

“I didn’t think we’d even get this far, honestly.”

 

“Neither did I.”

 

A wash of nerves makes Staldar pull back, realizing that he has no idea what he’s doing.

 

“I, um, have no experience with… with, ah,  _ carnal _ relations,” he admits, face flushed with embarrassment. Yorsashi blinks at him for a moment.

 

“You’re a virgin?”

 

“I’ve never really felt the urge to… seek or indulge… in such activities. I’ve found the advances of others quite uncomfortable, really.”

 

“So, in all this time, you never… fancied anyone? Even just physically?” Yorsashi’s head tilts inquisitively. Staldar shakes his head.

 

“They weren’t you,” he replies, pouring a little heat into his words, voice rough. Yorsashi shudders.

 

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to hear you say you want me, and now you tell me you’ve only ever wanted me. Gods, I--  _ Staldar _ ,” Yorsashi breathes, his voice plaintive, pleading. “I fantasized about you, I was so enamored. I’d imagine you, pretend that my touch was actually yours.” His words make Staldar dizzy, heady images of Yorsashi laid out, taking his pleasure in secret flashing through his mind. “Thought of all the things I wanted to do with you, to you. The things I wished you’d do to me.” Staldar speaks before he thinks, and is surprised by his own ardor, how honest it feels.

 

“Let me make it real. Let me make up for lost time. Please,” he rasps, that slow burning desire igniting into an inferno. “Tell me how you’d have me and I’ll give it to you.”

 

“Bedroom,” Yorsashi gasps, suddenly standing on unsteady legs, holding onto Staldar’s shoulders for balance. “I want us in a proper bed. Come on.” He helps Staldar to his feet, and there’s an awkwardness as he overcorrects his balance, tilting forward dangerously, Yorsashi pushing back. Stepping back to regain equilibrium, he trips over his discard belt, and threatens to fall in the opposite direction.

 

“ _ Shit,  _ shit--!” He hisses, kicking the offending accessory away. Yorsashi, already lightheaded and giddy, breaks out into hysterics, gasping for breath between bouts of laughter. Staldar, righting himself, gives a growly laugh in turn. “Glad you find my plight so entertaining.”

 

“S-sorry, let’s go, let’s go,” he manages, tugging Staldar along after him.

 

Staldar is surprised by how much the room resembles what he remembered of Yorsashi’s quarters in their old barracks. A myriad of plants arranged by the windowsills, a partially filled bookshelf, some minor trinkets displayed between books, a modest bed made more inviting with plenty of soft looking pillows and blankets, an armoire in one corner. Curtains drawn, some candles lit, it’s utterly cozy, warm and dim.

 

“I feel like I’ve been here before,” Staldar whispers with a hint of humor, drifting towards the shelf. Many of the books on it are familiar. Yorsashi’s arms wrap around his waist from behind, sliding up his torso, molding himself to his back. A rumble edging on a purr vibrates in his chest, placing his large hands over smaller ones.

 

“What can I say, I know what I like,” Yorsashi hums. “And right now, I’d like you to come lay with me.” Staldar mourns the loss of contact as Yorsashi extricates himself, but is quick to follow.

 

Yorsashi wastes no time getting comfortable, stretching out with a sigh, watching Staldar with a warm but idle gaze as he lounges back. Staldar takes a little more time, pausing to take him in, his back arched sweetly, shirt and leggings askew, flashes of perfect green peeking flirtily from beneath. Yorsashi must know what he looks like, a sly smile spreading over his face. Staldar slides a knee onto the mattress, leaning forward onto his hands, crawling forward to meet Yorsashi, and there’s something distinctly predatory about the movement, something about it that makes him feel like he’s about to pounce on some unsuspecting prey. Yorsashi suffers no distraction, however, his gaze like a magnet. Staldar only stops when they are nose to nose.

 

“Hello,” he says plainly. Yorsashi laughs.

 

“Well, hello. Come here often?”

 

“Not often enough.” Staldar reaches a hand under Yorsashi’s shirt, pulling it up further, relishing both the feel of his soft belly scales and the way he writhes, pushing up into that touch.

 

“Damn right,” Yorsashi gasps, arms coming up around his neck, pulling him down to lick a long line from just above his clavicle to a sensitive spot in the center of his throat. “Help me get this off, please.” He uncircles his arms and Staldar helps to pull the linen up and over his head, revealing an expanse of shimmering green, about as fit as Staldar last remembered, though age and change in lifestyle mean he’s not so lean and toned. If anything, he looks rather healthy, not having to push his body to extremes while out on missions. The shirt is discarded over the side of the bed.

 

“You’re beautiful,” Staldar breathes, ducking down to nuzzle at the side of his neck. The bedding is covered in Yorsashi’s scent, and he hopes that by being so near, so surrounded by him, that maybe he can keep that precious scent on him, at least for a short while. Yorsashi hums happily, spreading his fingers across Staldar’s back, claws gently scratching, pulling a shiver from him.

 

“And you’re a flatterer. Tell me, you said you wanted to hear my fantasies, but I’d rather hear yours. How did you imagine this moment going, darling?”

 

And Staldar blanks for a moment, reminded that, for so long, he’d never even considered this a possibility, so he never let it occupy his thoughts. And the very few times his imagination had wandered, he’d hardly been in control of his faculties. The guilt afterwards never felt worth the lapse in control.

 

“Truth be told, I never let myself think, ah…  _ imprudent _ thoughts about you. It felt wrong to. And I never dared hope that my feelings would be returned. So, ah, I’m well and truly out of my depth.” The admission has him blushing again, neck prickling with embarrassment.

 

“Your modesty extends even to that? So, what do you picture when you, ah, take care of yourself?” Staldar chokes.

 

“I--I… That’s not something I… I never really wanted to, so I didn’t…” Staldar fumbles and stutters, trying to find the right words. “It’s not that I deny myself. I just… the need never arises.”

 

“... Oh.  _ Oh _ . W-well, then, you really are just playing this by ear, huh?”

 

“I mean, I-I suppose I know some things. I know what it’s like to, er,  _ peak _ , so to speak.” He tries to wet his dry mouth, clearing his throat. “I once dreamt of you.”

 

Yorsashi’s eyes widen a little, and his breath quickens, eyes growing dark again.

 

“Do you remember it?”

 

“Vividly.”

 

“Describe it to me,” he moans, and Staldar is suddenly keenly aware of his emerging erection, just starting to strain uncomfortably against his breeches. Yorsashi is in a similar state bellow him.

 

“It was the night you were too cold to sleep and I moved nearer to keep you warm. I suppose sleeping so near to you awoke something in me that night. I was young and smitten.”

 

“So it wasn’t a nightmare,” Yorsashi says with some realization. “Gods, that’s… I’d say I’m sorry that I made you  _ come in your sleep _ but I’m absolutely not, that’s so utterly arousing and adorable.” He squirms a little beneath him, thighs rubbing together. Staldar resists the urge to grind down, let them both find some relief, but he holds off, his head already spinning enough as it is.

 

“The dream started off rather chaste. We were in a snowy forest, playing a game of tag, I think. But when I caught you, we fell to the ground, and I was over you-- much like this, actually.” He feels Yorsashi’s arms slide down off of his back, Yorsashi letting them rest above his head.

 

“Okay. You had me under you. Then what?”

 

“We, ah, when we were running, we were in our uniforms, but when we were on the ground, our clothes were gone.” As he says it, Yorsashi is already making short work of his leggings, quickly pushing them down, shimmying out of them from the cage of Staldar’s arms and legs. Staldar can hardly breathe as Yorsashi reveals himself further, pink erection bobbing against his lower belly, curving upwards enticingly. Yorsashi starts to move to unbutton Staldar’s own trousers but pauses.

 

“Tell me if you wish to stop, okay?” His eyes search Staldar’s face for any hesitation.

 

“Y-yes, of course. You’ll tell me if I do something you dislike as well?” Yorsashi smiles at this.

 

“Yes. Now, I want these off of you,” he sighs, and Staldar nods, trembling as he feels Yorsashi’s fingers pulling at the buttons, so near to his-- and then he’s shoving the fabric down his hips, and he can’t help his quiet gasp as his member is freed, hot and heavy between his legs. Shuffling out of the last articles of clothing, he’s hyper-aware of it against his thigh, unused to its turgid state. “O-oh, you’re bigger than-- Sorry, sorry, ignore me,” Yorsashi gasps, a flush spreading across his face. “We were both naked. What did we do then?” Staldar refocuses, swallowing and blinking.

 

“You pulled me closer, until we were pressed together, as close as we could be,” and again, Yorsashi does as described, pulling him down, Yorsashi warm and firm against his chest, their erections caught between them, a hint of friction making them both moan. “Y-you whispered something to me but I think it was just,  _ hah _ , gibberish, I don’t know. And then you, you, ah…” Staldar burns at the memory, how he’d so clearly felt Yorsashi’s touch as though it were real, felt his breath against his cheek as he heard his voice clearly. “You told me that you wanted me, and you t-touched me-- m-my--  _ hh!”  _ Yorsashi’s hand slides down between them, and then he’s cupping Staldar gently, just like the dream, and it knocks the wind out of him, tensing like a pulled bowstring.

 

“I touched your cock?” There’s a playfulness and a heat in his voice, amused and pleased with Staldar’s reaction. Staldar sucks in an unsteady breath.

 

“ _ Yes _ . A-and that was all it took to-- I was so overwhelmed by you.” He tries to be mindful of the way he grasps at the bedding, where his claws are, worked up as he is. “Even as I woke, I was s-still in the throes of,  _ nnh _ , of it.” Yorsashi’s hand presses a little more firmly, and Staldar has to stop himself from bucking into that grasp.

 

“I want to see that,” Yorsashi pants, a little growl of his own rising in this throat. “I want to see you fall apart from my touch. Not a dream, this time.” Staldar’s limbs feel weak as he takes in Yorsashi’s words, his cock twitching pathetically into that warm hand, struggling to string his thoughts together.

 

“What about you? Should I--?”

 

“No, not yet. You’ve never felt the touch of a lover and I think that’s a travesty,” he murmurs, and there’s affection in his voice. “I get to be the first one, I want to savor it. No distractions, as pleasant as that may be. I don’t want to miss the moment I take you over the edge.” Staldar has to close his eyes at that, his hips twitching in need.

 

“ _ Gods,  _ keep talking like that and this will be over far too soon,” he pants.

 

“Then I won’t waste anymore time. Roll over for me, this position is hard on my wrist.” Yorsashi removes his hand, pushing up on his shoulder. Staldar complies, laying back onto the bed, relieved to give his trembling arms and legs some reprieve. This position is very different, however, leaving him exposed, Yorsashi quickly taking the space between his legs, which now frame either side of the lithe dragonborn, cock jutting up needily. The reversal makes him flush, and he’s unsure what to do with his hands. Yorsashi looks pleased and amused by him, but doesn’t tease.

 

“This isn’t uncomfortable, is it? If you’d prefer something else…”

 

“N-no, this is fine, it’s just… a bit vulnerable. It feels more, ah, submissive, I guess, this way.”

 

“And you’re okay with that?”

 

“Yes, yes. I think I prefer you taking the lead, honestly,” he confesses, and it’s true. He’s a fish out of water, and the thought of taking a more domineering role when he knows so little fills him with anxiety. Yorsashi strokes his inner thighs soothingly, hands coming to rest on his hips.

 

“You know, most people assumed you’d be more… commanding, in bed. How surprised do you think they’d be, seeing you so sweet and pliant under me? You even got on your knees for me. Do you know how you looked, how it felt, when knelt down and looked up at me like that?” As he speaks, Yorsashi’s hands wander over him, rubbing and massaging him all over, kneading his weary muscles like dough, and he melts back against the  blankets and pillows under him, coming back down from the intensity of before.

 

“I,  _ ahh _ , wanted to supplicate myself to you. Kneeling is a sign of respect, is it not,” he offers, mouth falling open, eyes drooping.

 

“Your ‘supplication’ was utterly provocative,” Yorsashi groans. He lightly drags his claws over Staldar’s chest, causing him to gasp and jerk, caught between arching into or away from the sensation.

 

“Is it really so odd that I would bow before my beloved? Especially when trying to make up for all my mistakes?” Staldar looks up, and notices Yorsashi still, expression complex, intense. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Call me that again.”

 

“Beloved?”

 

“ _ Yes,”  _ Yorsashi gasps, eyes suddenly bright with emotion.

 

“Beloved, my beloved.  _ Ethe-itov _ .  _ ethe-rumag.” My love. My mate.  _ His own voice thickens as he says it, breath hitching. “I’ll say it however many times, however many ways you wish to hear it,  _ okarthel di vethikornari. _ ”  _ Home of my heart _ .

 

“ _ Ethe-trothar. Ethe-daron,”  _ Yorsashi exhales, leaning down, nuzzling into his sternum.  _ My protector. My knight. _ Staldar’s heart thunders against his ribcage, and he’s sure Yorsashi must feel it. His nose trails up his chest, along his clavicle, up the line of his throat, while his hands descend. “ _ Ethe-sargt.” My guardian. _ A hand gently encircles his member,  drawing a long, low groan from him, curling forward to hide his face in the crook of Yorsashi’s neck. His hands jump from the bedding to his narrow shoulders. Yorsashi’s hand pumps slowly, thumb swiping over the slender head. “I thought I’d need slick to ease the way but you’re practically leaking.” Swipe. Pump. Staldar groans, almost growling, belly tensing, trying not to cut Yorsashi's back to ribbons. Twist. Pump. The pleasure builds, stealing his breath, his thoughts.

 

“ _ S-’Sashi,  _ Yorsashi,” he pants, like a mantra, like a plea. “Fuck,  _ ah _ \--!” He jolts, thighs quivering as Yorsashi adjusts his grip, using both hands to create a warm, tight passage. His strokes become shorter, faster, bumping the swollen base of his prick on every down stroke. Yorsashi leans back to look at his face, his own reflecting the fire he’s stoking in Staldar.

 

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

 

“ _ Yes _ , yes, Yorsashi, I’m--!” A sound almost like a sob tears itself from his throat, and it’s becoming more and more true with every thrust. He feels like a string pulled too taut but he can neither relax or finally snap under the pressure; Yorsashi just keeps pulling him tighter.

 

But then, without a word, Yorsashi stops, simply holding him in his hands like a kind of perverse sword hilt. Staldar falls back against the bedding with a dissatisfied groan, limbs liquified, chest heaving. He peers up, blurrily, trying to catch his breath.

 

“ _ Hah,  _ wha-- what’s wrong?” Staldar’s voice is hoarse. Yorsashi just smiles sweetly at him.

 

“Nothing. I just thought I’d give you moment to breathe,” he replies, mischief in his eyes. Staldar growls impotently, fighting the urge to thrust up into Yorsashi’s hands.

 

“Oh, you’ll be the death of me, I swear,” he groans softly.

 

“Well, we don’t want  _ that _ now do we? Maybe I should just…” Yorsashi lifts his hands away and Staldar makes a pitiful sound of dismay, and this time his hips do jerk, as if to chase the fleeing touch. He groans again, throwing an arm over his face, but the sound morphs into a dark chuckle.

 

“I could think of worse ways to go. In fact, I can’t think of a way I’d rather meet my end.” His arm falls away and he looks up again, meeting eyes with Yorsashi. “Don’t tease me,  _ petranas _ .” Yorsashi crawls forward, only just letting himself brush up against Staldar, tantalizingly, maddeningly close.

 

“I rather like the sound of that.  _ ‘Please _ .’ Ask me nicely and maybe I’ll give you that little death, as some like to call it.” His voice is soft and low, Staldar hanging onto every word. It’s clear he’s having fun, drawing it all out now that he has Staldar in his bed, and Staldar is surprised at how natural and easy it feels. Yorsashi makes it feel like a game, play-acting, and Staldar is glad to follow along. He props himself up on his elbows, meeting Yorsashi halfway, touching noses.

 

“ _ Petranas _ , please, need you,  _ rigluin coi _ . Please, Yorsashi, plea- _ sss _ \--!” He hisses as Yorsashi surprises him, taking him back in hand, setting a brutal pace right away. He collapses back against the pillows beneath him, and his hands grip Yorsashi’s knees, on either side of him. He doesn’t even have a moment to regret the way his claws dig just a little too hard. If they pinch, Yorsashi gives no sign of feeling it. “ _ Fuck! _ ” He writhes hard, no longer able to stay still, bucking into that fast, tight fist. He becomes inarticulate, focus narrowed to that insistent point of contact. Yorsashi’s voice reels him back.       

 

“Keep going, keep telling me what you want, what you need,” he says breathily, encouragingly. “You’ve been so good for me,” he sighs, and something about that strikes a chord in him, causes a tumble of words to spill forth between the moans he utters.

 

“Y- _ ah- _ yes, yes, w-want to be,  _ ghh _ -good for you.” Yorsashi’s pumping begins to single in on the head of his cock, quick, shallow strokes that drive him wild, but he keeps babbling, unable to stop. “Wa- _ hah- _ nt to finish, finish so- _ oh  _ I can-- can touch you, too,  _ mm-majak petranaswin _ \--!” He loses himself for a moment, lost in the image of bringing Yorsashi off, while he’s on the knife edge of climax himself. But he needs to ask, needs Yorsashi to hear it. “ _ P-petranas origato ve confn, ahh, hah, origato ve petranaswin wux! _ ”  _ Please let me come, let me pleasure you. _ Even completely overwhelmed, all he can think about is the curve of Yorsashi’s back, his hips, his mouth parted in ecstasy.

 

Yorsashi makes a sound like a hiccup, blood rushing to his face, hand stuttering for a moment, losing its rhythm, but then he recovers.

 

“So good, so good for me,  _ bensvelk drot _ , my good boy. Come now, come for me, let go,” he commands gently, other hand now coming down to squeeze the base of his cock, firm, hot, and unyielding.

 

The reaction is immediate. Staldar’s breath stops, muscles seizing, and there’s a moment of stillness, the pressure in his abdomen reaching a plateau. And then his prick tries to spasm in Yorsashi’s grip, pulsing, a stripe of seed landing across his belly. Dam broken, he sucks in a ragged breath, head falling back, mouth open in a silent shout, every muscle contracting. Wave after wave hits him, hips jerking and pistoning as if he could fuck deeper into Yorsashi’s hands. What could only have been a few seconds feels like an hour, vision blurred, hearing himself grunt and growl as if it’s someone else’s voice.

 

Finally, he relaxes, limbs weak from the aftermath, panting as if he’d just sprinted several miles. He’s vaguely aware of Yorsashi letting go of his softening member, oversensitive, retreating as the blood returns to the rest of his body. When he finally regathers his faculties enough to move, rising to his elbows once more, he’s shocked to see Yorsashi licking the back of his hand, lapping up the evidence of his spending.

 

“ _ Gods _ , Yorsashi,” he croaks, then clears his throat, re-finding his voice. “That’s-- you don’t have to--”

 

“I want to,” Yorsashi replies readily. Once he’s satisfied that his hand is ‘clean,’ he ducks down to lick a line up his belly to his chest, causing Staldar to shiver weakly. “So salty. You don’t balance your diet enough.” Staldar barks out a laugh, wiping a hand over his face.

 

“ _ Seriously _ ? You’re seriously going to criticize my eating habits while you literally lick up my--,” he cuts himself off, warmth rushing to his face. “Tiamat’s tears, I’ll eat a godsdamned apple when I get back if it will make you happy, holy hells…” Yorsashi giggles, continuing to drag the flat of his tongue across his pectoral, the last of the seed licked away. Staldar reaches out, hands grasping Yorsashi’s waist, guiding him to sit up on his own hips. They have to shuffle, Yorsashi now straddling Staldar, and Staldar falls in love with this view, Yorsashi above him, legs wrapped around him, prick bobbing and dripping needily against him.

 

“Your turn,” he rasps gruffly. Yorsashi’s face glazes over a little, mouth parting as Staldar licks his palm. “Give me direction if I’m doing poorly. I want to do it right.”

 

“Oh, Staldar, I’ll be happy no matter what--  _ oh _ !” Yorsashi shudders as Staldar mimics what he’d seen and felt Yorsashi do, creating a tight circle with his fist, stroking along his length. “Fuck,  _ Gods _ , I’m already so close, you got me s-so riled,  _ hah, ahh-- _ !” Yorsashi’s thighs and belly quiver with tension. He leans back, supporting himself by holding  onto Staldar’s legs, squeezing hard, back arching. He pants and gasps as Staldar picks up the pace, taking in his responses, rapt. He raises his other hand, petting Yorsashi’s flank, his thigh.

 

He reaches around, taking one buttock in hand, kneading it, pulling him, urging him to thrust into his fist. Yorsashi’s reaction is everything, rocking back into his hand, fucking forward into his grasp, all the while making a sound like he’s about to die, gasping. “ _ Gods _ , oh Gods,  _ ah _ ,” he whines, head falling back.

 

Staldar can barely think, so consumed by the sight and sound of Yorsashi writhing in his lap, but he remembers Yorsashi’s earlier admission of fantasizing, and he’s suddenly desperate to know all the scenes he had spun in his head.

 

“Tell me all the things you used to imagine us doing. I want to hear them,” he commands gently. Yorsashi swallows, trying to string together a coherent thought.

 

“Th-this, for one. Imagined your,  _ ah, ah _ , big, rough hands.  _ Unh,  _ you were always n-nothing but gentle to me, but in m-my head,  _ hah _ , you were,  _ mm _ , more forceful. Demanding,  _ hnnh...”  _ Staldar chuckles a little and squeezes his ass a little harder, letting the very tips of his claws graze him. He tightens his grip on his cock as well, rotating his hand to create more friction. Yorsashi yelps, but the desire in his eyes doesn’t abate.

 

“Like that?”

 

“ _ Ngh,  _ yessss, yes, like that! I imagined you holding me tight, biting me, claiming me,  _ ah!  _ M- _ marking _ me.” His eyes are glassy from picturing it all. “S-sometimes we were making l-love, other times, fucking,  _ ohh _ … A lot of times, you were t-taking me… Sometimes, I was taking you,  _ fuck _ \--!” He closes his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed. Staldar, if he weren’t so spent and getting on in years, would already be standing at attention again, so aroused by everything he’s hearing. “When-- when you knelt, earlier, I-I couldn’t,  _ hh _ , help it, I thought of your mouth, your tongue…” Staldar growls at that, suddenly inspired. He starts pulling him even closer.

 

“Come on, scoot up, up--!” He watches in excitement and Yorsashi complies, inching forward shakily, until he’s seated on Staldar’s chest. Staldar’s stroking only slows for a moment, but once adjusted, he sets up his rhythm again, then cranes his neck forward a little. Yorsashi’s cock is so close to his face now that he can smell him intensely, feel the heat rolling off him, and a heady feeling blooms in him. Seeing the weeping tip, Staldar parts his mouth and flicks his tongue over the head, tasting him. Yorsashi’s breath leaves him in a great rush and he bucks hard, but Staldar has a hand on his hip, holding him still. He laps a few times, taking in his taste, when Yorsashi falls forward, one hand gripping the headboard of the bed, the other grasping Staldar’s wrist, stilling him as well.

 

“L-let me… I want to move, I want to--,” he struggles to put words together, but Staldar catches his meaning, moving the hand on his hip to his backside again, urging him to move as he keeps his other hand in place for him. Yorsashi immediately begins fucking his hand in earnest, thrusting hard, shallow, and fast. Every time he thrusts, Staldar flicks his tongue out, grazing the head of his cock. Yorsashi’s own claws dig into the headboard, small scratches appearing, and he grips Staldar’s fist in his own as though afraid he’ll take it away, but Staldar wouldn’t dream of it. Not when he’s making such desperate sounds, looking down at him with pupils dilated, eyes full of love and adoration and lust and need.

 

Staldar meets those eyes, trying to convey his intention as he relaxes his fist incrementally. Yorsashi’s thrusts push a little harder with each stroke, until the swollen base ‘ _ pops _ ’ through the circle of Staldar’s hand with a broken cry. Staldar immediately tightens his hand again, providing that same delicious pressure that Yorsashi had used to bring him over the precipice. Yorsashi presses down into him, body curving around Staldar’s head, and just before that crucial moment, Staldar wraps his tongue around as much as he can reach, hot breath ghosting over the length of him. Yorsashi shatters, a wail of sweet agony escaping his throat, eyes shut tight, prick throbbing as he spills onto Staldar’s waiting mouth. Staldar holds him through it, wriggling his tongue coaxingly, milking him to the last drop. Some of his seed finds its way onto his nose, some drips down his chin, landing in the dip of his clavicle, burning hot against his skin.

 

Yorsashi’s hold on him slowly relaxes, hand trembling, and Staldar lets go and gently licks up the last of the mess from his flagging erection. Staldar can feel the change in his posture, feel his muscles turn from steel bands to rubber, shaking from exertion and over-sensitization. He helps him slide off his chest, and Yorsashi cuddles up to his side, the last of his shudders subsiding, melting into his embrace. His breath evens out, resting his head against Staldar’s chest. Staldar is flooded with love in this moment of stillness, Yorsashi molded to him as though he were made to fit against him. Yorsashi shifts a little, raising his head to look to Staldar, when he snorts, moving to pull a corner of a sheet up to them.

 

“Made a mess of you twice in one night.” A laugh rumbles low in Staldar’s chest as Yorsashi wipes away the sticky seed.

 

“Yes, and it wasn’t exactly in the most convenient spot to give myself a tongue bath.”

 

This sets Yorsashi into a giggling fit, hiding his face against Staldar’s pectoral. Staldar just lets a tired, comfortable smile curl his mouth, eyes falling closed. Yorsashi’s giggles subside, but with growing alarm, the shaking of his shoulders does not, and Staldar feels warm tears between his scales. He sits up slightly, turning with concern. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you? Hey,” he whispers, guiding Yorsashi’s teary-eyed face to meet his own. “Do you regret what we’ve just done? If it was too much--”

 

“No,” Yorsashi gasps with a wet laugh. “No, no, it’s… it’s none of that. I’m… Staldar, I’m so  _ happy _ , so, so happy.” Staldar wipes away the tears on one side, licks away the ones on the other. Yorsashi gives a trembling sigh, pliant in Staldar’s worried touch.

 

“Then why the tears,  _ ethe-itov _ ?”

 

“I don’t want you to go,” he whimpers. “I know you must, I know, but I can’t help it. I’m scared and you’ve just made your way back into my life, and you might-- it’s not  _ fair _ \--!” He sobs and buries his face in Staldar’s shoulder. “ _ Si itov wux _ ,  _ si itov wux zyak kiarf.”  _ It’s muffled, but Staldar hears it clearly, and it’s like an arrow through his chest. His own eyes fill with unwanted tears.

 

“Gods, Yorsashi, I love you too, I love you, love you,” He chokes, squeezing him tight. “And I’m so sorry, I know, I know this is so…  _ fucked up _ , it’s all wrong, b-but…” He breathes in hard, then exhales, trying to steady his voice. “I’ll try to come back to you. I can’t promise that I will, but I’ll  _ try _ . Nothing short of death, Yorsashi. Nothing but that will keep me from you. Not anymore. Do you understand?” He pushes Yorsashi back to look him in the eyes. “Do you understand me? I need to know, Yorsashi.” Yorsashi watches him with wide, wet eyes, quiet for a moment, before nodding.

 

“Yes. Yes, I understand. I believe you.”

 

“Good. Good.” They both relax back into the bed, clinging together, trying to forget their fear. There’s a moment of quiet again as they gather themselves. “When things aren’t so… When it’s safer, I want to court you, properly. Like you deserve. No sneaking or hiding or lying anymore.”

 

“I’d love that, Staldar,” Yorsashi whispers back. “You know what I want to do, when that happens?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Go dancing. At our induction, all I could think about was how much I wanted to ask, how handsome you looked, but I was too nervous. We’d been apart and we were getting to know each other all over again, and you’d gotten so…” He coughs. “You’d, ah, grown up. Very dashing in your dress uniform. It fit very…  _ very  _ well.” Staldar laughs quietly.

 

“I could say the same for you. You filled out so much, I couldn’t stop looking at you. You had new… curves, so to speak.” He pauses, caught in reverie, before continuing. “I look forward to our first dance. Maybe I’ll get a new suit made for the occasion.”

 

“I’m sure it will be lovely.” Yorsashi yawns then, stretching out against  Staldar. Staldar has to fight his own, shaking his head.

 

“It’s late. Let’s rest.” Yorsashi nods and they both arrange themselves under the covers. In the end, Staldar curls around Yorsashi’s back, Yorsashi hugging his arm.

 

They’re both quiet for a long time, drifting in that space between wakefulness and sleep, when Yorsashi mumbles sleepily.

 

“ _ Si itov wux _ .”

 

“ _ Si itov wux kiri,” _ Staldar whispers back.

 

They sleep soundly, wrapped up in one another.

  
  


Staldar has no dreams. He wakes only a few hours later to darkness, candles having flickered out. Yorsashi still sleeps against his chest, exhausted. He sighs, and carefully, slowly, takes his arm back from Yorsashi. He worries for a moment when Yorsashi lets out a sleepy grumble, but he doesn’t wake, unconscious form pulling a pillow closer instead. Staldar’s heart swells and breaks a little.

 

He fumbles in the dark for a moment, finding his discarded trousers and pulling them on. He creeps as quietly as he can down the hall, careful not to bump anything. He finds the rest of his clothes still in a heap near the settee, and he feels an ounce of guilt for neglecting the brand new outfit right away. He dresses quickly.

 

A small bit of light comes in from the lit street lamps, and Staldar catches a glimpse of himself in a mirror, taking in his disheveled appearance. He tries to set himself to rights, tucking his shirt in, tightening his belt, but he can’t iron out all the wrinkles. For all intents and purposes, he’s about to do the walk of shame and he looks it.

 

He prays that no one at the Spider’s Den will be awake to see him in such a state.

 

Just before he goes, he opens up the wrapped book left on the table by the door. He turns to a section about local wildflowers.

 

He leaves two pages dogeared: the page for wild red roses, the other for morning glories.

 

He leaves quickly under the modest cover of dawn.


End file.
